Rebel Spy
Chapter 16: The Spinster

Copyright© 2014 by realoldbill

Historical Sex Story: Chapter 16: The Spinster - Follows the Rebel's activities in New York in support of one of Washington's spy rings

Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Historical   Violence  

"Now," the old madam said, lifting an eyebrow, "this is a special case."

"You always say that," I told her with a smile.

She hit me with her fan. "This fine young woman really is especially special, you impertinent cur. Wait until you see her; you will understand. And she may be in serious trouble. I can't really tell from her note. She has been useful to us, very useful. Go quickly, do whatever she tells you."

I went quickly where I was told, arrived late at night, stabled my horse and curled up on the loft, just about to fall asleep when a cry came from the dark house.

"No, please, please," the female voice yelped.

A man cackled and there was a slap and a deep and lecherous laugh. I got my britches and boots back on and crossed the stableyard to the back door, hitching on my heavy belt. The door gave to my shoulder, and I hurried up the back stairs and down the hall to the room where the wails and weeping were coming from. Someone was using a whip on human flesh from the sound of it.

Just as I got there, the door was flung open and a young woman in a frilly nightgown was thrust into the hall followed by a naked man carried a half-shuttered lamp and a leather quirt. The girl grabbed my arm whimpering, and I took the man's blow on my other forearm, kicked him in his fat belly and then spun him down the main stairway. He turned over twice, arms and legs flailing, lamp flying into space, thumping and banging the tread, and landed heavily in the front hall, unconscious if not dead. The lamp went out.

I patted the girl, looking briefly into her luminous eyes, noted the bright stripes on her shoulders, and hurried down the stairs, my bayonet in my hand. Seeing that he was breathing, I prodded his ribs with my toe, and he roused himself.

"Who are you?" he demanded in a quaking voice. He was grossly fat and nearly hairless, a bald, flabby specimen in the faint light.

"Get up, ' I said to him. "Go get something on. I want some answers."

"Please," the girl cried from the landing above. "Don't let him hit me."

"She's just excited," the man said as he lumbered up the stairs. The young woman fled to her room and slammed the door. I followed, introduced myself, and she sobbed and hugged me, a very pleasant experience for she was a well-made young woman and wearing very little. I patted her back and let my hand stroke her rounded buttocks. The newly-inflicted welts on her shoulder were red and raw.

"Anyone else in the house?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Servants?"

"Outside," she said. "Slaves, two of them and a groom, in the quarters."

"Come," I said and I took her hand and led her down the hall to the man's room where a candle glowed. The missing lamp came to my mind and sent the girl to fetch it while I pushed the man into a chair and sat on his high bed, pondering. The girl returned quickly and sat on a straight-backed chair. I opened the lantern wide.

"What's going on?" I asked her.

"He wants me to, to," she sniffed and hung her head, "I can't say it."

"Who is he?" I asked her, waving the loosely-robed man to silence with my big knife.

"My guardian, legal guardian," she said. "My parents are in England. He's a Tory; they favor Pitt."

"How old are you?" I asked her, a bit confused. She was an authentic beauty but so soft I wondered if she were not little more than a large child.

"Twenty, nearly twenty," she said. "A spinster." She smiled briefly.

I turned my attention to the man. "Explain yourself," I said.

"She's very disobedient. I wanted to teach her some manners." He looked sullen and frightened.

"In the dark of night? With a whip? Naked?"

'I have the right," he said. "Who the hell are you?"

"A soldier," I said, "and her friend."

"A rebel you mean, just as she is, disloyal, a traitor to her class."

"This your house?" I asked the man.

"Yes, of course," he said.

"She is leaving," I said. "You are to send her things later, all of them, carefully packed, her clothes and whatever else is hers. I will tell you where and when later. If you fail, I will return and feed you your liver and lights."

"But," the girl said.

"Get your jewelry, anything you must have and go dress to travel," I told her quietly.

"Now?" she asked. "It's nearly midnight."

"Now," I said. "Be quick."

I chivvied the man down into his dank cellar, tied his wrists to his ankles and locked him in. His servants would find him in the morning I was sure. Then I saddled the horse the girl wanted, got her astride as I enjoyed the feel of her body and legs, and we rode carefully and slowly northward, along roads seldom patrolled or blocked. By the false dawn, we had traveled perhaps five miles at little more than a walk, and we stopped at the first tavern showing some light.

While we broke our fast, she told me her story. Her guardian, she had concluded, had discovered she was sending messages in code and, she had also recently figured out, he wanted her body and had a few odd and very painful tastes when it came to sex. I certainly could understand any man's interest in her body for it was lush and vibrant.

"I need to sleep," she sighed. "I nearly fell from the saddle."

I rented us a room, and she doffed her skirt, jacket and stays and rolled under the quilts. I sat in a chair admiring her, and we both slept.

The sun was high when I awoke, used the privy and got myself some food. I was standing at the bar when a couple of nasty looking militiamen marched in and questioned the innkeeper about a pair of travelers, a tall man and a fair-haired woman.

The tavern owner glanced at me, said, "He's tall enough but he ain't got no woman."

The armed men regarded me briefly and then left. I put a crown on the bar and the man handed it back to me.

"Better go see to her," he said.

When I re-entered the room, she was sitting on the side of the bed, running her fingers through her long hair. With the light behind her, she looked angelic as well as desirable.

"They are out looking for you," I said.

She looked up, her eyes wide.

"We'd better either cut off your hair or dye it. They have, I fear, a description."

She nodded. "Something else. I was serious about being a spinster."

I must have looked stupid.

"I'm a maiden, a virgin," she said. "If I'm going to work with the madam, that needs to change."

 
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